


Document 184

by Donkey2323



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Voldemort Wins, But Hey! It Should Be A Fun Ride, Dark Harry, Harry Potter Goes to Durmstrang, I Have Absolutely No Idea Where I'm Going With This Story..., Multi, Necromancer Harry, Powerful Harry, Rating May Change, Smart Harry, Tags May Change, Warnings May Change
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-10
Updated: 2016-05-18
Packaged: 2018-04-14 00:48:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 14,283
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4543773
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Donkey2323/pseuds/Donkey2323
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dumbledore is killed by the Dark Lord on the 2nd January 1981. Even without their leader, the Order of the Phoenix still fight, but with both Hogwarts and the Ministry of Magic under Lord Voldemort's control, they are soon killed. Young Harry Potter is left an orphan, but soon his large power supplies and skill catch the eye of one of the Dark Lord's Inner Circle...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I was slightly hesitant to post this because I hate works that are left abandoned, and I have very little faith in myself that this will ever be finished.  
> The title is a work in progress. I can promise you that there is no significance of the Document 184 apart from the fact that it was the number that came with the blank Word document when I started this story.  
> Although this story is tagged as HP/TR, I am slightly loath to do so. My plan is to have a relationship between the two, but romance is not my forte. It's a foreign arena to me.  
> I feel I have blathered for long enough now, and you are all wishing for me to get on with the story. So here we go, I suppose...

2nd January 1981  
**Albus Dumbledore Dead!**  
_The Dark Lord defeats Dumbledore in duel._  
By Rita Skeeter

Readers, it is my solemn duty to tell you of the events that have taken place today. In a turn of events no one expected, Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts, has been defeated by the Dark Lord in Hogsmede during the early hours of this morning. Witnesses say that the Dark Lord arrived alone and called upon Dumbledore to come down from the school and to fight him alone, without hiding behind the school wards any longer.

Dumbledore arrived on the scene five minutes later with Minerva McGonagall, Deputy Headmistress and Transfiguration Teacher, who refused to leave her colleague’s side. 

Dumbledore called upon the Dark Lord to leave peacefully, saying that too many lives had been lost. At the Dark Lord’s refusal to stand down a duel ensued, the Dark Lord coming out victorious, both Dumbledore and McGonagall slain.

With their leader gone, it is not known how the light will continue the fight against the dark. There are rumours that the Ministry of Magic will soon fall to the Dark Lord. With Hogwarts already under His control, the fate of Wizarding Britain seems sealed.

***

17th March 1981  
**The Ministry under the Dark Lord’s Control**  
_Lucius Malfoy declared Minister for Magic_  
By Rita Skeeter

After a tight campaign for the place of Minister for Magic, Lucius Malfoy was finally declared the winner late last night, with a total of 296 votes from the Wizengamot, out of a possible 400.

Minister Malfoy said that he ‘wanted to thank all the members of the Wizengamot for their votes’ and that he ‘hoped they could work together towards the betterment of Wizarding Britain’. And this ‘betterment’ has already started, it seems. Minister Malfoy’s first action as Minister for Magic was to rearrange the ministry.

Many departments are under investigation and some have changed hands, the most notable being the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, which has been taken out of Amelia Bone’s control and given to Thorfinn Rowle, a high level Auror who tells us that he finds it an ‘honour to have received such a position’.

***

_A letter from Lucius Malfoy to Lord Voldemort on the night of his election._

My Lord, 

As of tonight, the ministry is yours. I have been sworn in as Minister for Magic with just short of three quarters of the votes. The only opposition came in the form of those still loyal to Dumbledore, the most notable among them the Potters and Longbottoms. I will start putting the new legislation forward tomorrow, but I do not foresee any trouble.

Your faithful servant,   
Lucius Abraxas Malfoy

***

_A note found on the desk of Izar Nott, Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, concerning the new legislation._

Our Lord wants each family within the wizarding world to align themselves to a Pureblood family, becoming members of that family and under the Family Head’s jurisdiction. Any Mudbloods will be adopted by a Half-blood family and cut all ties with their first family. Each Pureblood Lord is then to swear an oath of loyalty to Our Lord. Those that refuse will be _persuaded_. I trust this can be easily passed, Nott. It will not serve you well to fail Our Lord.

Long Live the Dark Lord  
Lord Lucius Abraxas  
Malfoy Minister for Magic

***

_A letter from Izar Nott to Lord Voldemort_

My Lord,

The new bill has been passed in the Wizengamot. However, not every Pureblood Head has agreed. The Blacks, Prewetts, Potters, Longbottoms, Shacklebolts, Moodys, Weasleys, Browns, MacDougals, Doges and Ollivanders will not swear. Some of these Lords have children which I believe are still young.

What do you wish to happen to the unfaithful Lords and their kin? I await your orders.

Your servant,  
Izar Cantankerus Nott

***

_Orders from Lord Voldemort to Izar Nott, relayed via Lucius Malfoy_

Nott,

Our Lord says that all are to be killed, along with their spouses. The children are to be sent to Bellatrix Lestrange. He believes that they may still be turned in their loyalties while they are at a young age.

Long live the Dark Lord,  
Lord Lucius A. Malfoy  
Minister of Magic

***

_Letter from Thorfinn Rowle to Lucius Malfoy_

Malfoy,

The list you sent me has been taken care of. Twelve Lords and five Ladies were put to the wand. The Potter, Longbottom, Brown, MacDougal and Weasley children have been taken to Bellatrix, all are under school age. I will see you at the Victory Ball.

Long live the Dark Lord,  
Thorfinn Rowle

***

1st July 1981  
**Victory Ball Held at Slytherin Manor**  
_Lords of Pureblood houses swear loyalty oath  
_ By Rita Skeeter- Fawley

Last night, a grand victory ball was hosted by the Dark Lord, in celebration of Lucius Malfoy’s promotion as Minister and the beginning of a new age for Wizarding Britain.

The Ballroom, organised by the Minister’s wife, Lady Narcissa Malfoy, was stunning and the ball was enjoyed by all. After it had ended however, came the real reason for the evening, an event this reporter was lucky enough to be invited to; the Pureblood Lord’s oaths of loyalty. There were some missing faces among the Lords, the Dark Lord admitted that some had been unwilling to swear an oath and those had been exiled and their titles will be held until their children come of age. Twenty-Six Lords and thirteen Ladies, a total of 27 Houses, swore their loyalty to the Dark Lord Voldemort that night, including the Minister for Magic.

For a list of those who swore the oaths turn to page 4.  
For pictures of the evening turn to page 7 & 8.

***

_Letter from the Dark Lord to Bellatrix Lestrange_

Bellatrix,

These children are the kin of the unfaithful Lords executed last night. They are still young and, if taught correctly, will remain loyal to our cause. Some will inherit powerful Lordships when they come of age.

Find some followers who can train them. They will take places as low level Death Eaters when they are older. I trust you can complete this task well, my most faithful.

Lord Voldemort

***

_Letter from Bellatrix Lestrange to Lucius Malfoy_

Lucy,

We’ve been attacked, dear brother. Some rebels decided to play at killers and attacked the traitor’s children. They all fell to the attack but for one. Little Heir Potter stood his own ground. It was glorious, Lucy. He killed a man today. He killed a man with a just a burst of power. Such delicious, dark magic, brother mine, you’ve never felt. I almost can’t believe that that much power came out of his itty, bitty body. The boy needs a tutor, Lucy, and he can be glorious. He could rival our Lord, he really, really could. Send someone, Lucy. Send someone soon before he gets too far out of control.

Your loving sister,  
Trixie

***

_An adoption form for Heir Harry Potter_

**Former Name- Harry James Charlus Jack Potter**  
**Birth Father- James Charlus Jack Hadrian Potter**  
**Birth Mother- Lily Alexandra Evans-Potter**

**Adopted Guardian (Primary) - Bellatrix Druella Black-Lestrange**  
**Adopted Guardian (Secondary) - Lucius Abraxas Malfoy**

**Adopted Name- Hadrian Bellator Lestrange-Malfoy-Potter**  
**Place of Residence- Lestrange Hall**  
**Titles- Heir Lestrange, Heir Potter, Scion Malfoy**

***

_Letter from the Dark Lord to Karkaroff_

Karkaroff,

As I feel you will be reluctant to come it of your stronghold in the north, I will oblige you and send my orders to you by owl. For now.

The school will be changed. Shut it down. Any student in 5th year or below will be sent to a different school. Those in the final two years will be allowed to complete their courses. The school will only cater to my elite from now on. I am sending Bellatrix and Travers to design and implement a starting exam for all potential students. 4 students are to be admitted per year. Some of your staff will, of course, be replaced in order to train those sent to the highest capacity. I trust you are capable of this.

Lord Voldemort

***

_Letter sent from Lord Nott to Bellatrix Lestrange_

Lady Lestrange,

After a review of your ward’s latest Aptitude Examination, it has been found that he possesses a large amount of power and skill for his young age. This is a formal invitation for your ward to attend the entrance exam for Durmstrang Institute. Attached is a portkey for the 1st August. If your ward passes the entrance exam, he will become a member of the school and eventually a member of Our Lord’s elite guard.

Long Live the Dark Lord,  
Lord Izar Cantankerus Nott


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you very much to those who left reviews, and those who bookmarked, and subscribed and everybody who bothered to read it, in all honesty. Thanks especially to Chezebel, who gave a me an immense amount of inspiration for this story.

“Are you coming, boy?”

Hadrian looked up at the brusque tone of his tutor’s voice. Antonin Dolohov-Rosier had looked after him for most of his life, and taught him everything he would need to know, plus a bit extra on the side. Although Bellatrix had been to see him once a fortnight, to keep track of his progress, Dolohov-Rosier had been his tutor throughout his time at Lestrange Hall.

“Where are we going?” He asked as he placed his quill down, careful not to smudge any of his latest essay.

“Knockturn Alley” Dolohov-Rosier replied, holding up a piece of parchment in his hand. “This arrived for the Lady Lestrange yesterday. An official invitation for the entrance examinations at Durmstrang Institute. You will need a wand, at the very least if you are to hold any chance.”

“What?” Hadrian scrabbled up from his seat and snatched the parchment out of Dolohov-Rosier’s hand. “Durmstrang. I’ve been invited to test for Durmstrang.” He said, not quite believing it. Durmstrang was the school for the Dark Lord’s elite, the education they gave there was of the highest quality. It was said to be an extremely difficult course but, if you made it through, you were guaranteed a place in the Elite Guard, dedicated to guarding the Dark Lord himself and his inner circle.

“You are very smart for your age, Hadrian. Most of what you have been taught has been way above what is usually taught most pre-school students. Your guardians are two of Our Lord’s most loyal. I can think of no one better for a place in Durmstrang.”

“But- but…” Hadrian took a minute to pull himself together. “Right. Durmstrang. I’ll… I’ll think about it properly later. In the meantime, I believe you said something about a wand?”

***

Hadrian and Dolohov-Rosier landed in Knockturn Alley with a crack. Despite the Dark Lord’s rule it was still home to the less law-abiding citizens. Diagon Alley was still used by most wizards and wizards. Only the Dark Lord’s Inner Circle could walk down the Alley without risk of attack.

Hadrian quickly followed Dolohov-Rosier down the darkened alleyway, ignoring most of the shopkeepers and customers, not wanting anyone to recognise him. Most knew not to acknowledge him when he was with Dolohov-Rosier, but some were either too drunk or too stupid to remember this most days.

Hadrian was known by most occupants of the alley by the name Erus Riddle. He had found the name Erus in a history book in the Malfoy Library, he couldn’t remember which one now, and liked it. It meant Master or Lord and its last recorded use had been a Dark Lord in 1648. The surname Riddle, however, held no meaning. He wasn’t even sure it was a surname. All he knew was that to his nine-year-old self it had sounded cool. Erus Riddle, Lord of Riddles and Mystery.

Dolohov-Rosier disliked him going out into the alley alone, deemed it too dangerous for a young boy, no matter how skilled. Naturally curious, he had gone anyway and had soon become a regular customer at most of the shops. As Erus Riddle, he could be free, as cliché as that sounded. Hadrian Lestrange was a different persona; a clever boy, to be sure, as loyal as his guardians to the Dark Lord but lacked any kind of outstanding personality. He was the kind of person you would miss in a room, he preferred to read books and rarely conversed with anyone.

Erus Riddle, on the other hand, was always on the search for new and interesting pieces of magic. He wasn't afraid to bargain and barter, to blackmail and threaten to get what he wanted. Still loyal, of course, but not afraid to point out the failings of the Dark Lord, and not too afraid to voice them. He was ruthless in his dealings and quite violent. He felt Erus Riddle was more of his true self than Hadrian Lestrange-Malfoy-Potter.

Hadrian felt Dolohov-Rosier’s hand land heavily on his shoulder.

“I need to pick up some things from other shops. Will you be alright getting your wand by yourself? Stay in Palicki’s when you are finished or, if you do have to move, only to Borgin and Burkes or Diagon Alley. Please don’t go deeper into Knockturn.”

Hadrian turned to his dark-haired tutor.

“I’ll be fine, Dolohov- Rosier. Go and find your things. I have no wish to venture anywhere else.” He also had no wish to mention that he’d already explored the darker areas of Knockturn Alley, and was respected by most of the dark witches and wizards there.

“Fine. I trust you. Don’t make me regret it. I shouldn't be more than one hour. Meet me at the entrance to Diagon Alley at 1 o'clock.”

Hadrian watched Dolohov-Rosier until his dark cloak had disappeared into the gloom, then turned to enter the shop in front of him, the crumbling shop front declaring it as Palicki’s Wands.

He preferred the wands made at Palicki’s. They were darker, in general. Palicki was not wary of experimenting with different cores and these wands tended to allow for more power in a spell. The store was dim and dusty, as were most stores down Knockturn. The walls were bare, unlike Ollivander’s. Because Palicki saw fewer customers, he didn’t have to mass produce wands ahead of time. Each wand was made for each individual.

Hadrian sat down in the empty, rickety chair to wait. He knew better than to disturb a wand-maker at his business. He had been waiting five minutes, amusing himself by watching a spider slowly crawl across the ceiling, when Palicki came out of the shadows at the back of the shop.

“Erus Riddle. I presume you’re here for a wand, at long last.”

“Yes, sir.” Hadrian answered as he stood up. “I’ve been invited to test at Durmstrang in two weeks. I’ll be needing a wand there, sir.”

“You’d be surprised, Erus.” The old man murmured, but before he could ask what he meant, the wand-maker went on. “Come into my workshop, boy. I have some materials I think will fit you, but I must be sure.”

Hadrian followed the man into the area behind the shop, a workshop covered in tools, wood and six separate bubbling cauldrons. He watched as Palicki drifted over to one, carefully measuring a piece of wood before adding it and stirring.

“That should be fine to leave for now. Come, Mr. Riddle, over here. Let me show you a bit of magic forgotten by most.”

Intrigued by the idea of new magic, Hadrian followed and found Palicki at a small ritual table in the far corner of the workshop.

“Take the chalk, boy.” Palicki instructed him. “Write your name in the centre of the ritual circle; clearly please. My eyes cannot see as well as they used to.”

Hadrian hesitated. If he wrote his true name, someone would know his secret. He trusted the old man not to let the knowledge spread, but someone would still know. However, if he wrote his assumed name, it may affect the ritual that was about to take place.

“Write the name you most identify with, boy. I know you hold two names. One name will allow you to remain on this path. The other will change the world. We can expect great things from you, Erus Riddle, but one name will bring your pathway to join with another’s. He is also powerful but the two of you have the power to destroy the world, if you so wished. Choose your name, boy, and choose your fate.”

Hadrian, with shaking hands though he would later deny it, wrote his name in the centre of the circle.

**_Erus Riddle_ **

Palicka did not look surprised, but just nodded, as if he had known that this would be the outcome. He placed his wand to the edge of the circle while mumbling a low, Latin chant.

_“Magica, et mutuum auxilium invocare nos quaerimus invenire ut instrumentum, quo sit tua maxima Erus Riddle perficiet opus.”_

As he finished the chant for the seventh time, two boxes appeared in the centre of the circle. One he knew was a wand box from Ollivander’s, all of his wands having been stored away after his death- the destruction of a wand, owned or not, considered one of the highest crimes within the wizarding world,- the other a slip of wood from Palicki’s own shop. Palicki bent forward and plucked them from the circle, studying them intently. First he took the wand out from the case.

“Holly and Phoenix feather, 11 inches. Fairly powerful, but not strong enough to support your level of power, Mr Riddle. Very well made, but Garrick’s always are.”

He turned to pick up the wood.

“13 inches of Japanese Yew. I never thought I would use this wood. Collected on Samhain under a full moon. Very dark wood, made even darker by the night it was harvested. Very sturdy. Will be excellent for all variety of dark magic, particularly when paired with this core.

“It appears I have some crafting to do, Mr Riddle. Dismantling a wand is very tricky business, especially if you want the core to remain intact. I will be half an hour at most; I suggest you look after your other purchases. Do you need any other school supplies?”

“No, sir. I will collect what I need if-”

“When.” The old man said, but Hadrian ignored him.

“- _if_ I get accepted. But I do have an order in Borgin  & Burke’s. I owled them a few days ago about a ring I’ve been looking for.”

“Someone you wish to marry, Erus? You’re a bit young for that at the moment, my boy.” The wand-maker asked, his own peculiar sense of humour showing.

“Not at the moment, Palicki. I’m more interested in the magical properties.” Hadrian told the wand-maker. This ring was a rare magical object; legend said that it had been charmed by a sorceress. The only problem was that no one could figure out what it was charmed with. It was for Bellatrix, who liked collected mysterious items. Hadrian had learned years ago that it helped to stay on Bellatrix’s good side.

“Of course. Well, go and collect your order, Erus, and come back in half an hour. I should be done by then.” Palicki turned back to his workshop and began studying the wand from Ollivander’s, completely blocking Hadrian out. Hadrian, used to the old wizard’s one-track mind when it came to wand-crafting, dropped 7 Galleons on the counter, let himself out and started to walk down Knockturn to Borgin and Burke’s.

He set off the small bell above the door as he walked in but, upon seeing no one coming, started to look at the new objects on display. He had just picked up a heavy tome on blood rituals when the bell sounded again. He covertly shifted to study the new customer whilst pretending to read the book in his hand. He was tall, standing a little over 6 foot, and his dark hair was immaculately combed in soft waves atop his head. But it was his eyes that gained Hadrian’s attention. They were blood red, standing out against the paleness of his skin, which was almost bone white.

Hadrian was interrupted from his study of this stranger when Borgin came out from the back of the shop.

“Good afternoon, gentlemen, what can I do for you?” He asked, his voice as oily as his hair.

The stranger gestured to Hadrian to go first.

“I’m here to pick up an order, sir.”

“Good, good.” Borgin turned his gaze upon the second customer. “And you, sir?”

“I’m here for an order as well.”

The man’s voice sent shivers down Hadrian’s spine. The seemingly polite sentence carried endless undertones of warning and danger.

“And the names?” Burke asked, turning so he could address both of them.

“Riddle.”

“Riddle.”

Hadrian turned to the stranger, Riddle, to find the man already staring at him, red eyes blazing.

“So.” The elder man purred. “You’re Erus Riddle. I’ve been trying to find you. No one in Knockturn seems to have any idea where you come from.”

“M-me?” Hadrian stuttered.

“Yes, _you_. Do you think when a child appears in Knockturn Alley with your name and a mysterious origin, you do not investigate?”

The man had a point, Hadrian had to admit, but that still did not stop him from being terrified. Luckily, Borgin interrupted the piercing study of those ruby red eyes by bring forth their packages.

“Master Erus Riddle and Lord Thomas Riddle.” He announced, placing a heavy tome and a small, square box on the table. Lord Riddle swept them both up into his robes and paid Borgin for both. Hadrian began to protest, both the taking of his order and the payment, but Riddle just shushed him.

“Thank you, Borgin. I shall see you later. Come Erus, we have much to talk about.”

Hadrian quickly followed the man as he swept out of the shop.

“Do you have anywhere else to be, Erus?” Riddle asked as he walked down Knockturn Alley, Hadrian trotting along beside him like an obedient dog.  
“I’m supposed to be at Palicki’s in five minutes, for my new wand.”

“Very well. We shall stop at Palicki’s then, for your wand, and then you will come with me. I have some questions you will be answering.”

Hadrian didn’t bother disputing that. The man had the power to back up any number of threats or promises, and Hadrian didn’t fancy finding out what they would be.  
They entered the wand shop just as Palicki exited his workshop, wand in hand.

“Mr Riddle. Excellent, you’re just in time; I’ve just finished your wand. It was devilishly tricky to make but it will serve you well, of that I’ve no doubt.”

Palicki turned to give the wand over to Hadrian when he spotted Riddle, who was lurking in the corner.

“Hello! I haven’t seen you around before. Are you in need of a wand, or are you just accompanying our young Mr Riddle here?”

“I am in no need for a wand. Mine has served me well for the past fifty-five years.” Riddle replied.

“May I look? I’m presuming it is one of Garrick’s. His are always well made and a joy to study, if too safe when it comes to the crafting.”

Riddle reluctantly withdrew his wand and handed it over to the wand-maker. Palicki looked at it closely and held it up to one ear.

“Yew and Phoenix Feather, 13 inches. Not unlike the wand I’ve just made for Mr Riddle. In fact…”

He held the two wands next to each other.

“They are twin wands.” He announced after a moment of study. “These are very rare, rarer than brother wands. The feathers in both of your wands are from the same bird and the wood from the same tree. They were both picked at the same time in the year, although Erus’ wood is considerably younger. I would not have expected Garrick to have made such a dark wand, back then. He always preferred to make lighter wands. This _is_ from Ollivander’s, correct?”

“It is.” Riddle assured Palicki. “He seemed almost reluctant to hand it over to me. He said that he had been compelled to make it and had hoped never to sell it. He seemed most distraught when that was the wand that fit me.”

“It seems Magic has a plan concerning the two of you. For Her to have compelled Garrick to make one wand for you and having sent me the twin materials for young Erus, it means you must be important to Her. Only those with close bonds ever hold twin wands. May I ask your name, young man?”

“Lord Riddle.”

The old wand-maker looked like Christmas day had come early.

“Well, well. Two Riddles. Now, that is a coincidence. Of course, only one of you is a true Riddle, but the other remains true in nature. Here, take your wands and leave, for surely the two of you have much to talk about.”

Palicki passed over the wands and almost skipped away into the back room.

Hadrian shivered at the tingle his new wand sent up his arm. He had never felt power like it. He was distracted from his study of his new wand, however, when he was dragged out of the shop by Riddle. His arm was only released when they were both at Gringotts, where he was pushed through the doors.

“I want you take a blood test.”

Hadrian froze up. A blood test would reveal his true identity and heritage. He had never trusted anyone with both of his names, never mind this stranger, twin wands or no.

“Why should I?” he bluffed, desperate to get out of this situation. “What’s to stop me from just walking away?”

“This.” Riddle replied, toying with Hadrian’s ring. “This must be important to you, judging by the amount of money you spent on it. Money that you _will_ be paying me back. Take a blood test and let me see the results and I will return your little toy to you.”

“And what do I get out of it?”

“Apart from your ring and my continued goodwill towards you? Absolutely nothing. But I feel those prices are fair enough. Now stop stalling and get over there.” Riddle answered, giving Hadrian a not-so-subtle nudge towards the goblin.

“Yes?” The goblin snarled, not looking up from his papers.

“Merry met. I would like to request a blood test.” Hadrian said, conscious of Riddle hovering over his shoulder.

“Merry met. Bloodiron will organise your blood test. If you will go to your left.”

Hadrian stepped off in the direction the goblin gestured, Riddle following close behind, stalking him in the shadows.

“Merry met, young wizard. Three drops of blood on this parchment.”

Hadrian let three drops fall without hesitation. The goblins kept business moving at a fast pace in the bank, there were too many other customers for it to be otherwise. He, and Riddle although he could not see him, watched intently as blank ink slowly formed words in a tight text on the parchment. Once it was dried, Hadrian picked it up to allow both him and Riddle to read it.

**Name:                        Hadrian Bellum Lestrange-Malfoy-Potter**  
**Primary Guardian:      Bellatrix Druella Lestrange-Black (Pureblood)**  
**Secondary Guardian   Lucius Abraxas Malfoy (Pureblood)**

**Status:                        Pureblood**

**Heir to Lines:             Lestrange (Primary Guardian)**  
**Potter (Paternal)**

**Vaults:                       Lestrange Heir Vault- Access Denied Until of Age**  
**Potter Heir Vault- Access Denied Until of Age**

**Magical Bonds:          Wand- Yew and Phoenix Feature, 13 inches**

**Magical Traits:          Core- Dark**  
**Parselmouth**  
**Necromancer- Untrained**

Hadrian felt more than heard a deep chuckle from the man behind him.

“Well, well. Hadrian Lestrange. Bellatrix’s little ward. Rumour has it you’ve been invited to test for Durmstrang. Quite an intelligent boy for your age, according to Trixie. I presume your invitation arrived today.”

“Yes.” Hadrian murmured, not really paying much attention to Riddle. He hadn’t know he was a parselmouth or a necromancer. Neither were Lestrange, Malfoy or Potter traits he had come across when Dolohov-Rosier had made him research his family history and his birth mother was Muggleborn, no chance of it coming from that side. It seemed he was going to do some more research when he got home.

“Where is Dolohov-Rosier, anyway?” Riddle continued, oblivious to Hadrian’s train of thought.

“Went to get some stuff.” He answered absentmindedly, before his brain slowly caught up to what Riddle had just said. “Shit! Dolohov-Rosier. I was supposed to meet him-”

“Then we had better not keep him waiting, should we?” Riddle intervened smoothly, leading Hadrian out of Gringotts and towards the gateway where he could see Dolohov-Rosier stood.

“Wait!” Hadrian shouted as he ran to catch up with Riddle. “Don’t tell him about my second name. He doesn’t know about it and I’d rather he never found out, quite frankly.”

“Don’t worry.” Riddle answered, without turning back. “Your secret is safe with me. For now.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The spell used by the wand-maker roughly translates as 'Magic, call upon us and lend us aid as we search to find the tool with which Erus Riddle will perform your great work'. As much as I would like to be able to speak Latin, I cannot, so I must content myself with Google Translate.  
> This chapter is more of an introductory chapter. The next chapter is when the action begins, with Hadrian's entrance exam for Durmstrang, and we meet Bellatrix, who I had so much fun writing.  
> Please, tell me what you thought. Tell me if you liked it, tell me if you hated it, tell me if you think I should leave writing to others.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry for the late update. The wireless adapter on my laptop has broken, so I'm posting this from my sister's laptop. However, to make up for the lost time, I'll post an extra-long chapter today. Because I'm nice like that.  
> I've always thought that the third chapter is the best time for admin. Number One: I do not own Harry Potter. I wish I did, I really do, but I don't. Number Two: I don't have a beta. Any mistakes found are mine alone and I would really appreciate if you could point them out.

Hadrian landed solidly outside the imposing gates of Durmstrang, glancing nervously over his shoulder to find Dolohov-Rosier already gone; no doubt to tell Bellatrix he had arrived. The school was impressive Hadrian had to admit, as he soaked in the sight. A large gothic castle, it looked deserted from outside the gate. He ran quickly inside, having no interest in standing outside in the freezing wind. He edged in the crack between the two solid mahogany doors and sighed as the effects of the heating charms within the castle dispersed any sign of the bitter chill outside. 

A hall of over 30 students, all of his age, greeted him as he walked through the large, mahogany doors. He watched them milling around, chatting and laughing and felt awkward, as he always did in these occasions. His days had been spent alone, his guardians often at the Ministry, in Lord Malfoy’s case, or at Durmstrang, in the case of Bellatrix, and only Dolohov-Rosier to keep him company. 

He leant against a wall, watching the children in hall with interest. They appeared to have split themselves into three groups. In the corner furthest away from the door was a group of children Hadrian all recognised, children of Purebloods. They were second only the Elite Death Eaters and the Dark Lord himself within society and they were the only children both Dolohov-Rosier and Bellatrix allowed him to associate with. Many were guaranteed an automatic testing for Durmstrang, the only one not present being Draco Malfoy, who was already ensured a place in the Dark Lord’s inner circle after his father.

In the centre of the large hall was the largest group. This appeared to Harrison to be where all the nervous students had congregated, all of them flipping through books, muttering under their breath or pacing franticly back and forth. He watch with no small amount of amusement as two of these pacing individuals collided with each other, starting a shouting match that slowly spread throughout the group until all the children in the centre of the hall were stood screaming at each other. 

The third and final group stood silently by the door, looking around with wide eyes and clutching their wands tightly in their hands. Mudbloods, Hadrian decided, only chosen because they had been scoring decently on their Aptitude Examinations. None of them would be chosen; that Hadrian knew. They were only there so that the Dark Lord could say he was offering fair chances to everyone. 

Hadrian remained alone by the wall, preferring solitude to any of the three groups. The Purebloods, although he was now one himself, treated him with scorn. The centre group had now dissolved into throwing curses at each other, and Hadrian had no wish to stand with any Mudblood.

He withdrew his wand from its holster, setting down to study it for the first time since he had got it. As it had done every time he picked it up, it sent a warm flash of energy down his arm, and Hadrian wondered if he would ever get tired of the feeling. So entranced in his study, he didn’t notice anyone nearing him until it was too late. 

“That’s a very powerful wand.” Came a soft voice from over his shoulder. Hadrian almost dropped it as he span around, to meet bright blue eyes. “Very dark, but that is nothing to worry about in this day and age, of course.” The young girl continued.

“I’m sorry, but who are you?” He ventured, not recognising the girl, or having seen her walk in.

“But a powerful wand needs a powerful owner, and you are powerful, Hadrian Bellator, there’s no doubting that.” 

“How do you know my name?” He asked, but was cut off once again by the young girl. 

“Very powerful, indeed, and with a chance to change the world, if you only let yourself trust him.”

“Why does everyone keep saying that?” Hadrian demanded. “How? How could I change the world?”

“Everyone has the chance to change the world, Hadrian Bellator, but your path runs straighter than some. I will not say it is smoother, for there will surely be many obstacles on the way, but your course runs straight ahead of you. It is your choice, of course, whether you take the path to the sun or the path to the stars.” As she finished her speech, the young girl turned to walk away again.

“Wait!” Hadrian cried after her. She stopped and turned, looking at Hadrian expectantly. “Your name. What’s your name?” 

“My name is Amaris Lacey-Selwyn, Hadrian Bellator. I expect you shall see me soon.” And then she disappeared and, no matter how hard Hadrian searched the hall for the mysterious girl with the bright blue eyes, there was no sign of her. 

***

Hadrian slowly opened the door and slipped inside, only to find himself in a bone-crushing hug and a mouthful of black curls. 

“I… can’t… breathe.” He managed to gasp out eventually and found himself stumbling from the speed of his release. 

“Let’s see it then.” The woman in front of him demanded, bouncing up and down in her excitement. He slowly withdrew his wand and handed it over. 

“Yew and Phoenix Feather, Trixie. 13 inches.”

He watched in amusement as Bellatrix skipped around the darkened room waving the wand around to create purple and gold sparks.  
“It’s lovely.” She gushed, as she passed it back to Hadrian. “Such lovely, dark power.” Bellatrix pouted. “Look at my itty, bitty boy, all grown up and with a wand of his own. But soon he’ll be able to duel and, oh what fun we will have!”

Hadrian, used to Bellatrix’s whiplash changes in mood, just nodded and used this opportunity to set his guardian back on course.

“We shall have the best kind of fun, Trixie, of course we will. Now, do we not have an application test to see to?”

“Of course we do, lovely, and don’t think I’ve forgotten about it.” She waved an admonishing figure in front of Hadrian face, almost taking his eye out in her enthusiasm. “Well, sit down, silly boy.” She cried, before dropping to the floor where she stood, dragging Hadrian down with her. 

She waved her wand and conjured a black piece of parchment and a purple and gold quill, matching the sparks that had come out of his wand.

“Just a few questions to ask before we begin. Answer truthfully, now, or Trixie will be upset. Have you ever used a wand before?”

Hadrian bit his lip before answering. “Yes, I have.”

“Ooo, naughty, naughty. Whose have you used?” 

“Yours, Trixie.” Hadrian answered, trying to keep a straight face at the look of shock on her face.

“When did you have hold of my wand, you little brat?” Bellatrix growled, eyes flashing dangerously. Hadrian shrank back into the shadows.

“It was only for a few hours, Bellatrix. You were talking to Dolohov-Rosier and I could see it in your cloak pocket. I wanted to see if I could get it without you noticing, but once I had it, you moved and I couldn’t return it. I only cast one spell, promise!” He squeaked. 

Bellatrix lent back once more and let out a wild cackle. “My clever, itty, bitty boy. Managed to steal a wand from me. _Me!_ Well, moving on. Is your core light or dark?”

“Dark.”

“Are you loyal to our Lord?”

“Yes.” Hadrian scoffed at the absurdness of this question. Why would anyone admit to not being loyal when the punishment was death? 

“Truth spells, little Hadrian.” Bellatrix told him. Despite her distinct lack in sanity, Bellatrix was not a stupid witch and knew what Hadrian was no doubt thinking. “This room is covered with them. Even the most skilled occlumens would have trouble lying. Do you have any important magical traits?”

“I’m a parselmouth and a necromancer.” The words slipped out Hadrian’s mouth before he had the chance to take them back. 

“Well, well. That’s certainly interesting.” Bellatrix clapped her hands in glee. “Now, the next step in this little test is to test your magical core. We can’t have any weaklings worming their way in, can we? They’d be dead within days.” 

Bellatrix sounded all too happy about the possibility of that happening and Hadrian rolled his eyes as he pushed himself to his feet. 

“Wand on the floor. Can’t have it interrupting with my little spell. This may hurt a bit. Be a good boy and try not to scream, will you.”

Hadrian stiffened. Bellatrix’s definition of ‘hurt a bit’ was the Cruciatus Curse. He closed his eyes as a golden spell streaked towards him.

He cracked open an eyelid upon hearing Bellatrix’s cackle. 

“You’re too gullible, Hadrian love. I can’t believe you thought I would hurt you. Me; your favourite guardian!” Bellatrix crossed her arms and pouted until a scroll popped into existence next to her. 

“Let’s have a little looksee then.” Bellatrix’s eyes flew over the information on the parchment and then squealed. “My, my. My itty, bitty, baby boy has a magical core to rival our Lord’s. Well, that is interesting. Just the last part now. Just a teensy little spell I want you to perform for me.”

Bellatrix removed her wand and moved it in a swift figure of eight.

“Magicae Revelare.”

Hadrian watched as swirls of smoke poured out of Bellatrix’s wand, shades of the darkest green and red. 

“This spell is designed to show what area of magic a witch or wizard is most skilled in. My lovely colours show that I excel in offensive magic and torture. It makes such a pretty sight.”

She waved her wand once more and the smoke disappeared. “Your go now, lovely!”

Hadrian withdrew his wand and cast his first spell.

“Magicae Revelare.”

Smoke once again poured into the room, but this time in the darkest shade of black, interspersed by deep greens and blues. Bellatrix jumped up and down.

“Such a pretty set of colours, my lovely. Death magic, offensive and defensive magic. Such a skilled little boy I have! Off you go then.” Bellatrix made shooing motions with her hands towards the door at the opposite side of the room. “Izzy will send me a letter in a few days telling me that you have been accepted. And then you will be here, and we will have such fun, Hadrian love!” 

***

Lucius watched in amusement as Bellatrix danced in circles around the parlour. It was only when she tripped over her feet and landed on the floor with an 'oomph' that she spoke up. 

"Our baby boy is wonderful, Lucy. He's just wonderful. Such a skilled little boy. And he's so like our Lord! His magical core, and his wand... and he's a parselmouth too. And a necromancer of all things. Such dark powers our baby boy holds. And he's powerful. He'll be one of the best duellers ever. And when he joins the Elite Guard he will guard Our Lord, I'll make sure of that, because he's going to be the best Elite Guard ever trained. I'll have to train him myself, of course-" 

"You need to breathe, Bellatrix." Lucius interrupted. "And I need to wrap my head around all you just said. Hadrian is a necromancer, you said, and a parselmouth. How curious. I can't say that I know of any parselmouth other than our Lord and I don't know of any necromancers. And they certainly aren't traits from either of our bloodlines…” Lucius trailed off as he took a sip from the glass in his hand. 

“What does it matter where the powers come from?” Bellatrix pouted from the floor. “So long as he uses them and he is glorious and powerful and I’m sure that our baby boy will be.” She finished with a sense of finality, crossing her arms over her heaving bosoms. 

“It matters, Trixie, because he shall, if what you say is true, eventually be guarding Our Lord, and he will be sure to ask questions about these mysterious powers, and we must have an answer for him.”

“Bah. We have years until that will happen. For now, I want you to come down here and help me to sort out a basic curriculum.” She said, once again summoning a bundle of parchment and a large quill. 

“Bellatrix, I refuse to sit on the floor like a toddler. I have a perfectly useable desk. Use it.” 

Wordlessly, Bellatrix stood up, cleared the desk with a swipe of her arm and, stepping carefully over the parchment and smashed ink bottles on the floor, sat cross-legged on the desk, spreading her papers in front of her. 

“Honestly, woman, you’re worse than Draco was.” Lucius sighed as he drained the last of his whisky and banished the mess on the floor, drawing up a chair to the desk. 

***

_Letter from Izar Nott to Bellatrix Lestrange_

Lady Lestrange,  
I am writing to inform you that your ward, Hadrian Lestrange-Malfoy-Potter, has been accepted for a place at Durmstrang Institute. The year begins on the 1st September. Your ward will need three sets of duelling robes, one set of school robes, one set of dress robes, two cloaks, parchment, quills and anything else you feel is necessary. No textbooks are required for the first year. Pets are not allowed at Durmstrang and the school owls may be used in cases of emergencies. 

Long live the Dark Lord,  
Lord Izar Cantankerus Nott 

***

“You were accepted, I presume.” 

Hadrian whirled around at the silky voice behind him. There, leaning against a stack of fabrics with a smug look on his face, was Lord Thomas Riddle. Hadrian turned back to the duelling robes he had been looking at.

“Yes, I was. Trixie was very excited to get the acceptance letter. And so, here I am.” 

He withdrew a robe from the rack to look at it, before catching sight of the price and putting it down again. He moved further down the rail, towards the cheaper duelling robes. Although Bellatrix was ecstatic to have her ward attending Durmstrang, Lucius had put a limit on the amount of money she could give Hadrian to spend on supplies. He had only 120 Galleons in his pouch and he wanted to buy a wand holster and a new trunk- the one he used currently to store books being old and very weakly warded- leaving only enough money to buy very basic robes. 

“Those were very good robes, certainly the quality expected to those attending Durmstrang.”

“However, they are also 24 Galleons. If I wish to buy all my supplies I will have to ration my money. And that means not buying duelling robes that are too expensive.”

“Did Bellatrix not give you enough money for everything? I find that very unlikely. Knowing Bellatrix she probably offered to buy the best of everything for you.”

Hadrian was tempted to ignore the man, but knew that would, in the end, do more harm than good.

“She did, but Lord Malfoy restricted her. I have only enough money to get what I need.”

He turned back to the rail, wondering if anyone would notice if one of his robes and cloaks was second-hand, when they were interrupted by a cheerful voice. 

“Good day, gentlemen. What can Madame Malkin-Parkinson do for you this fine morning?”

Hadrian opening his mouth to ask for 2 pairs of basic duelling robes and the directions to the second-hand shop, when Riddle’s smooth tones interrupted him.

“Three pairs of the finest duelling robes you have, for my son here.”

As Hadrian stared at him in shock, Madame Malkin-Parkinson used the opportunity to shuffle him over to the stand, and started to measure him, two tape measures flitting around his head like oddly shaped birds. As the tape squeezed his stomach, he opened his mouth to protest.

“I’m-” he began, but quailed under the fierce glare that Riddle sent him. 

“Hush, child.” Riddle soothed. “No son of mine is going to Durmstrang with anything but the best.”

Hadrian settled for glaring at Riddle while Madame Malkin-Parkinson continued to flit about the shop.

“Durmstrang, is it?” She asked. “I’m presuming you’ll want a school robe as well.”

“And two winter cloaks and a dress robe. We have no need to go anywhere else when we can buy everything from this fine shop.”

Madame Malkin-Parkinson let out a high, tittering laugh as she collected the tape measures from Hadrian, one measuring the length of each individual strand of hair and the other getting dangerously far up his inside leg. 

“Thank very much, Mr-”

“Riddle. Lord Riddle. And this is my son, Erus.” Riddle said, kissing the back of Madame Malkin-Parkinson’s hand. “Say hello to this delightful lady, Erus.”

Hadrian glared at Riddle from the top of the pedestal, and ground out a “Charmed” from between clenched teeth. 

Madame Malkin-Parkinson flushed as Riddle stood up once more and almost ran to the back room, muttering something about materials. Once Hadrian was sure she was gone, he rounded on Riddle. 

“What are you-”

“Hush, child.” Riddle said once again. “The fine woman will be back soon. We will discuss this later, understood?”

“Yes, _Father._ ” Hadrian sneered, returning to the podium just as Madame Malkin-Parkinson came out from the back robe, black fabric draped over her arm. With a flick of her wand, all of the three garments were floating in the air in front of Hadrian and Riddle.

“These are items asked for, with the exception of the dress robes, which I will have to make separately as they will, of course, be personalised to best suit your son. All of them are fit with growth charms, to ensure your son does not grow out of them too quickly, cleaning charms and the duelling robes have some basic safety charms. The cloaks are fur-lined and have heating charms; something that I’m told you’ll thank me for once you are at the school. If these are to your satisfaction, then we can make a start on the dress robes.”

Hadrian hopped from the podium to take a closer look at the robes. The duelling robes were made out of soft, black leather, designed to allow him maximum movement. The sleeves were tight, unlike the long, flowing sleeves often found on robes, and were slit up the side of both legs. They had a high collar and, although Hadrian was loath to admit it, looked much better than the robes he would have bought.

The school robe, as opposed to being the plain robe he was expecting, was much like the duelling robes, except a dark red colour and with looser sleeves. The neckline was also lower, the same height as normal robes, and above the heart was the Durmstrang Institute emblem, an intricate skull and snake pattern with two crossed wands in front of it.

The cloaks were the same colour as the school robes, and lined on the inside with white fur. The hood was unlined, something Hadrian was grateful for, as the idea of fur next to his ear made him shudder. He could already feel the heat radiating from them, even while three paces away. 

“They are perfect, my dear lady.” Riddle’s voice pulled him away from his study, and he was steered back onto the podium by Madame Malkin-Parkinson.

What Hadrian endured next, he was sure was as close to Hell on Earth as it was possible to get. He was stuck in the tailor’s for another hour, while Madame Malkin-Parkinson flittered around and Riddle just stood to the side, observing with a smug gleam in his eye. Hadrian silently fumed while Riddle took over, not only buying the robes, but a whole new wardrobe for Hadrian, always shushing him whenever he went to protest. And at the sight of Riddle once again paying and pocketing his things, Hadrian stormed out of the store before he lost control of his magic.

“What does that smug bastard think he’s doing?” He mumbled to himself as he wove quickly through the busy Alley towards Knockturn. “Turning up out of the blue, with that smug look on his fucking face.”

“You need to watch your language, Mr Lestrange.”

“And you need to find someone else’s life to run.” Hadrian hissed; spinning around to, once again, find Riddle leaning on a wall. “I’m not your little toy, to be dressed up and dragged around. And I’m certainly not in need of you to pay for everything.”

Riddle took a step towards Hadrian, releasing a burst of dark magic that weighed down on him. He traced a figure lightly down Hadrian’s cheek, catching hold of his jaw tightly when he moved to jerk away.

“You need to learn how to bend your pretty little neck, Hadrian, and accept help when it is given to you. I have just made your life at Durmstrang so much easier.” He crooned. “Should you not be thanking me, instead of damning me?”

“I will never thank you, you egotistical bastard!”

Riddle’s hand tightened on his jaw, a sharp nail pricking the skin and drawing blood. 

“You will learn, in time.” He purred. “It will not be long before you are on your knees in front of me.”

Hadrian spat in Riddle’s face. A crack echoed around the dark alley and Hadrian stumbled back, a red handprint glowing on his cheek.

“You try my patience dearly.” Riddle hissed, looming over him. “You will submit to me one day, child. You will not escape.”

Another loud crack and Hadrian was alone in the alley once more, his clothes spread about in the dirt at his feet, wiping the blood from his chin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to everyone who has read this, bookmarked it and subscribed. I honestly wasn't expecting this big of a response when I posted it. Thank you.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You're actually all still here. I'm amazed that even after a month of not updating, people were still reading this fic and leaving kudos. Thank you so much. But I feel I should forewarn you, this length of time between update is likely going to be normal. I often find myself drowning in school work and have little time to write. But stick with me, please?

“Lestrange.”

“Greengrass.”

“Good Lord, don’t tell me they accepted you. You probably bribed Bellatrix into giving you a passable test score.”

“At least that would be better than having Daddy pay my way in.”

“How dare you, you filthy Mudblood!” And for the second time in as many weeks, Hadrian found a dark red handprint on his cheek. Hadrian watched in silence as Greengrass stormed away to the other side of the hall, where she leant against the wall, arms crossed, glowering at him.

“If you cannot control your temper, Miss Greengrass, I can certainly help you. Perhaps a few hours as target practice for the older years will teach you the virtues of a calm manner.” A deep voice came from the side of the hall. Hadrian turned his attention to the man who had just entered. His brown hair was cropped close to his head and his blue eyes sharp. Dressed in deep red duelling robes, he had a presence that could not be ignored.

“Come, gather round.” He told them, cutting off Greengrass’ attempt at an excuse. As Hadrian came closer, the final two students came into view. Long brown hair and dull hazel eyes, the twins were the type of people you would lose in a crowd, those you wouldn’t remember once you had met them. 

“Introductions always seem the best place to start.” The man said. “If you are expected to work together and maybe even die together, then you should know each other. I am Lord Travers, although you will soon find that we have no need for titles here. I am Master Travers within this school. Now, I know all four of you and, from that display, I can see that two of you already are familiar, and yet you do not know everyone. If you would be so kind as to give us your names, we may proceed to other matters.”

“Heiress Daphne Dahlia Greengrass.” Greengrass was the first to speak up, looking down her nose at Hadrian and the twins.

“You heard me tell you we had no need for titles, did you not?” Master Travers interjected. “Whatever station you held outside these walls, whether it be Lord, Heiress, Scion or just a son, it is left behind. The Dark Lord has no need for titles within his elite guard. You will find your place based on skill, not on birth.”

“You cannot do that!” Greengrass screeched. “I refuse to be put with these Mudbloods. I am the Heiress to the Ancient and Most Noble House of Greengrass, not some common farm girl.” She added, sneering at the twins.

“You will soon find that I can, _Miss_ Greengrass, or you will not be long for this school. If you would prefer to return to the comforts your title affords, I am sure Headmaster Karkaroff will be only too happy to find a portkey to return you home. There are many who would love to take your place.”

Greengrass remained silent. Master Travers smirked. “As I thought. Be so kind as to keep quiet about matters of blood and title during your education at this school, Miss Greengrass. Who was next to introduce themselves?”

“Rhea and Rosemary Reid- Flint.” The girls introduced themselves, giving no helpful indication as to which name belonged to which twin.

“Hadrian Lestrange-Malfoy-Potter.”

“Good.” Master Travers said. “Now, in your admittance test, each of you would have performed a spell. Based on the results of this spell, each of you will be assigned a tutor who will teach you throughout your time at Durmstrang. Depending on how many students we have to teach, you may find yourself with much free time, while your tutor looks after another older student, or you may find yourself sharing a lesson with the older students. 

“Mr Lestrange, you will be studying under Madam Lestrange, the Miss Reids under Master Gibbon, and Miss Greengrass,” Master Travers gave a feral smile, “You will be working with me. Mr Lestrange, you will also be taking extra lessons under a second tutor for Necromancy and Parselmagic lessons. 

“Miss Greengrass, if you will stay here, the final two tutors will be found down the corridor. I would go to introduce you, but I think you are bright enough to work out which is _Madam_ Lestrange and which _Master_ Gibbon.”

The twins gave Master Travers a curt nod and set off together, arm in arm. Hadrian followed more slowly, until he was yanked forward by a strong grip on his arm.

“Come on, come on!” Bellatrix dragged him into an empty room, into the middle of the floor. She dropped down to sit cross-legged and Hadrian knelt next to her, used to this behaviour from Bellatrix. Bellatrix seemed to have an aversion to chairs, as well as, oddly enough, shoes. 

“Now you, my baby boy, are very lucky. I have given all of my students to the other teachers so I can focus on you all day, darling! You shall have the greatest training and will be the bestest member of the elite guard ever, worthy to guard Our Lord himself!”

***

Right. The Dark Lord. Bellatrix was training him to guard the Dark Lord. And she seemed so excited over it, like he would be perfect for the job.

He slipped into his new room and locked the door behind him. It was tastefully furnished, if a bit bland, as you would expect from a school dormitory. But it was his for the next seven years and his alone. 

And he was thankful for the solitude now. It meant he could pace and mutter without looking slightly mad. People would start to wonder if Bellatrix's mannerisms had rubbed off on him. Bellatrix had told him that she had given her students, 8 of them, to the other teachers in this school, so she could focus entirely on Hadrian throughout his seven years.

As well as teaching at Durmstrang, Bellatrix was also in charge of the Dark Lord’s security, she decided who was assigned to which member of the inner circle and ran the elite guard. According to her, the Dark Lord was guarded on a rota basis at the moment, three guards, always changing, but Bellatrix wanted the Dark Lord to have one trained guard, to look after him and him alone, while two other rota guards would also be secondary guards. From what Bellatrix had told him, he was to become this bodyguard for the Dark Lord. 

Bellatrix had laid out his seven year curriculum. For the first three years he was to take the basic training that all students at Durmstrang took. Lessons like Herbology and Charms were not taught. Students were taught only what was needed to become members of the elite guards. If a student was found to specialise in something by their fourth year, for example, healing or interrogation, then they would specialise in their preferred area for the final four years of their schooling, or they would continue with more advanced general training.

According to Bellatrix, by his fourth year, Hadrian would begin learning about the Dark Lord, learning his habits and routine, so as to be better equipped to guard him. His training would be centred on guarding one person, as opposed to many, as the general training did. This was also when he would start his lessons in Necromancy and Parselmagic. In his seventh year he would begin training with the Dark Lord himself, who everyone said was a formidable dueller in his own right. He would learn how to fight alongside the ruler of Wizarding Britain, when to aid him in fighting and when to focus on moving him to safer ground. 

He dropped back onto the bed and starred at the ceiling. Most of his mind was screaming at the lunacy of it, but a smaller part of his mind was staring to see the benefits. He would have one of the highest positions in the Elite Guard, as personal guard to the Dark Lord. It was more he could have hoped for at his age. He would gain recognition, something he had craved. And he would finally be considered worthy by the other purebloods that saw him as beneath them. Apart from the young Malfoy, he would be considered equal to all of them within the higher ranks of society. 

And his place, if what Bellatrix had told him was true, was pretty much secured. He was being trained specially. It took a lot of time out of Bellatrix's schedule to do this, and it was something that was unlikely to happen again until he became too old to work, by which point he would have enough money to live in comfort for the rest of his days. To be a member of the Elite Guard was a very high paying job, close to those highest up in the Ministry. 

He had seven years to learn his trade and he trusted in Bellatrix's judgement, as he always had done. If she said he could do this then he could, and he would make bloody well sure he was the best at it. 

***

The following morning was an interesting experience for Hadrian. The alarm at 5 o’clock startled him out of bed, leaving him groggy and blurry eyed on the carpeted floor. Finding the floor unexpectedly comfortable in his exhausted state, he fell asleep again, to be woken this time with a stinging hex to the stomach.

“Bloody hell.” He cursed, staggering to his feet with tears in his eyes. 

“You’ll thank me later.” Advised a blur in the doorway, but by the time Hadrian wiped his eyes, the entrance was empty. 

He stumbled out of the room and soon forgot about the mysterious person in the doorway as he concentrated on finding his way back down to the entrance hall where, hopefully, he’d find some clue of where he was meant to be.

Although the castle had started its life as a muggle mansion, over time it had been expanded by wizards, until almost nothing was recognisable of the grand muggle mansion it had once been. And while the wizard expansions had helped to make the school large enough for all the students, it didn’t help when it came to traversing the castle. Moving windows, locked doors and identical, plain corridors meant it took Hadrian only three minutes before he was lost. 

Right, left, right, right, straight ahead and right again, Hadrian took random turns at every juncture. Bellatrix was going to kill him when she found out. His only hope was to distract her, and that only worked occasionally. Great, just great. He’d only just arrived and already he was in bother. Hadrian tried not to regard it as an omen for the rest of his school days. 

It took Hadrian a good fifteen minutes before he caught sight of a familiar corridor that, sure enough, lead to the entrance hall. His plan of quietly sneaking into the dining hall, however, was ruined when the door slammed shut behind him, the load bang echoing around the large hall.

He froze, as the two occupants of the hall turned their attention on him. Both boys appeared to be students, if their uniform was anything to go by, and Hadrian would guess that they were in their sixth or seventh year. 

“Oy!” The broader of the two shouted. “What do you think you’re doing in here, you little sneak? You should be in the dining hall with the rest of the firsties.”

“Leave the poor boy alone, Davenport.” The second boy cut in. “He probably just got lost on the way down. You know as well as I that enough pain can cause disorientation.”

Hadrian gaped at him like a goldfish, completely lost. The boy watched in amusement as realisation dawned. 

“You!” He exclaimed, indignant. “You sent that bloody stinging hex.”

“Be thankful I didn’t aim any lower. Garnett Fitzgerald- Burke.” Fitzgerald- Burke offered his hand. “And this is Michael Davenport- Montague.”

“Hadrian Lestrange.” He reached for the outstretched hand, but it was dropped before he could grasp it, leaving him stood with his arm in the air in front of him. He hastily dropped his own arm and tried not to fidget as the two elder boys looked him over. 

“You’re Madame Lestrange’s boy, ain’t ya?” Davenport-Montague asked after a moment of silence.

“Um, yeah.” He answered, not really too sure what else to say. 

They lapsed into another minute of awkward silence. Well, awkward for Hadrian. The two boys seemed perfectly content to let the silence to continue. 

“Could you tell me the way to the dining room?” He ventured after another minute.

“Down the corridor, third door on you left.” Fitzgerald- Burke offered, never ceasing staring at Hadrian.

“Right.” He mumbled. “Right, thanks.” He fled as quickly as he could.

***

Hadrian slipped quietly onto a bench near the end of the hall, next to the twins. Being almost three-quarters of an hour late to breakfast, most of the food was gone, but he managed to snag two slices of toast from an almost empty platter. 

“Hello.” 

The twins spoke at the same time, something, if Hadrian was wholly honest with himself, he found slightly eerie. His only experience with twins had been the few weeks he had spent with the Weasley twins, before they had been killed. Those were memories he preferred to avoid. He still had nightmares about Morag MacDougal screaming as she bled out on the floor. 

“Hello.” He replied after hurriedly swallowing the toast in his mouth. “Rhea and Rosemary, right?”

“Yes.” They answered together again; a habit Hadrian could see becoming very confusing in the future. 

“I’m sorry to ask.” He said, as he finished off the last piece of toast and gulped down a cup of pumpkin juice. “But, which one of you is which?” He winced at his blunt wording, but did little to correct it, just looked at the two girls expectedly. 

“Guess.” Came the harmonised answer, both girls looking at him blankly. 

Hadrian stared at them, no idea how to even start putting forward a suggestion as to which twin was which. Both were identical, the same red uniform robes and cloak, hair pulled back neatly into a braid. They even appeared to have eaten the same for breakfast, if the leftovers on their plates were any suggestion. In the end, he just decided to guess, telling himself it was a fifty-fifty chance and he lost nothing if he was wrong.

Although he wasn’t too sure about that last part. The girls’ blank stares were starting to creep him out.

“Rosemary.” He said, pointing to the girl on the left. “Rhea.” He pointed to the girl on the right. 

The twins stared at him for a few more seconds before breaking out in laughter. 

“Nope.” The one on the left said; Rhea, Hadrian now knew. 

“Fine.” He huffed. “But how was I supposed to guess that?”

“You weren’t.” Rosemary snickered. “We take great pains to ensure no one can tell us apart.”

A loud gong drowned out Hadrian’s scathing reply and, almost as one, the older students stood up and left the hall, leaving the four first year students sitting, looking rather bewildered. Master Travers, Bellatrix and a man Hadrian presumed to be Master Gibbon stood from the long staff table Hadrian hadn’t noticed before, rather preoccupied with his Twin Guessing Game. Bellatrix skipped over to the three students, Master Gibbons following at a slower pace behind. 

“Up, up, up!” Bellatrix tugged on his arm, almost pulling him off the bench. Hadrian swung his leg over the bench, so as not to land on the floor. He stumbled down the corridor behind Bellatrix, trying desperately to stay on his feet. They stopped in the same room as they had yesterday and as the door slammed shut behind him, Hadrian tried not to read too much into it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it's a short chapter compared to the others, but I wanted to get something up. As usual, feedback would be lovely.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have an update! Don't all fall off your chairs in shock, please. It's been a while, I know. I've had the worst case of writer's block I've ever had for this story. This next section has been rewritten about 4 times. I'm still not sure I'm 100% happy with it, especially with Tom, but it's going up anyway.

The sound of a lock sliding shut had Hadrian spinning round. Barely had he turned his back, when he was jerked off his feet. He closed his eyes, ready for the impact with the cold stone floor that never came. 

He slowly opened one eye to find himself suspended an inch of the floor. Unsure how to progress from there without crashing face first onto the ground, he went to fish his wand out of his pocket.

Well, tried to fish his wand out of his pocket and was faced with the unfortunate realisation that he was frozen. A thin strip appeared in front of his face. 

Allowing his eyes to focus, he saw his wand, dangling from Bellatrix’s fingertips.

“Looking for this?” She asked sweetly. Hadrian glared at her as best he could. 

“Stop glaring, sweetie.” Bellatrix crooned as she waved the wand back and forth before his eyes. “It’s your own fault, you know. Never turn your back on anyone, even if you trust them. Especially if you trust them.

“Let this be the first lesson for today.” She intoned solemnly, before bursting into child-like giggles. “Oh, I can tell already we’re going to have such fun this year.”

That, Hadrian thought wryly, rather depended on your definition of fun. He sucked in a sharp breath of surprise as he was dropped to the floor, too fast for him to turn his head. He winced as he heard his nose crack on impact with the stones.

He scrambled to his feet, holding his robe sleeve to his nose to try and stem the bleeding. He stumbled backwards, keeping his eyes fixed firmly on Bellatrix, who was jumping from side to side. He wasn’t expecting the hex that hit the back of his legs, bringing him to his knees.

“Never turn your back in an empty room either.”

He winced as he staggered upright again and backed into the nearest corner, eyes darting around the room for the next attack he knew was coming. And sure enough, he dodged to the side of a sickly looking green spell.

Straight into another one. 

“Never back yourself into a corner.”

Hadrian knew then that he wasn’t coming out of this room unharmed. He began to edge around the room, trying to stay as far away from Bellatrix as he could. Perhaps if he dodged as many spells as he could, it wouldn’t be too bad. 

He kept to his strategy for as long as possible, dodging the spells speeding towards him, but they kept coming thick and fast and soon he was riddled with cuts and wounds from miscalculated dodges or well calculated throws on the part of Bellatrix. 

He shouted as a spell tore through an open wound on his leg, making it deeper until he could feel the blood running down his calf.

“Never leave your wounds unhealed”

He ignored these words of ‘advice’ from Bellatrix, sure that they would lead him into yet another volley of spells. However, when the spells didn’t seem to speed up, he began slowly limping towards the medical cupboard in the corner, hoping to quickly swipe up a bandage. He was mildly surprised when he managed it but, as he bent down to tug the binding into place, a spell grazed his shoulder.

“Never stop to heal your wounds.”

He threw his wand down on the ground. He was only five minutes into the lesson and too bloody and exhausted to continue.

“I give up.”

He felt Bellatrix’s wand on the nape of his neck.

“Good.” She purred. “Always know when to surrender.”

She dropped her wand from his neck and sauntered around in front of him. 

“You finally got something right. I’ll let you heal up before we continue. The supplies are in the corner.”

He almost snarled back an ‘I know where the bloody supplies are’ before he caught the look in Bellatrix’s eye. He limped over there silently, keeping one eye firmly on his guardian and teacher. This was a side of her he’d never seen before. Gone was the guardian who had helped raise him, albeit in a mildly unconventional manner, and in her place was someone more than worthy of being the head of the Dark Lord’s elite guard. 

He smeared the lotions across his wounds, breathing a short sigh of relief as he felt the pain melt away. He settled down on the floor to secure a bandage around the deeper cut on his calf.

“The trick to being a member of the Elite Guard,” Bellatrix lectured him as she waited, “Is to keep your actions in balance. You walk a fine line between keeping you and the Dark Lord safe or putting yourself in more danger. There are going to be times when you will wish you were at Hogwarts. I will push you hard and accept nothing less than the best for my Lord. By the time you leave here, you should be able to beat anyone, including myself, in a duel. You will learn to kill accurately and without mercy. You will learn obedience to your Lord. Understand?”

Hadrian nodded, mutely.

“Good.” Bellatrix span her wand through her fingers. “Go pick up your wand. Your training begins here.”

***

The twins slid silently onto the bench either side of him. 

"We hear tell that your extra lessons begin today." Rhea began. 

"Do you have any idea who your teacher is?" Rosemary asked. 

"I'm sure that even Madame Lestrange doesn't know. Every time I ask she changes the subject." 

He winced at the memory of the last time he had asked. Bellatrix had changed the subject, rather effectively, by cutting off his wand arm at the elbow with a strong severing charm, claiming it was a test to see how well he could cope with both the loss of an important limb and with the blood loss. He decided not to ask again after that, in case she decided to take his legs instead. 

On the bright side, he did learn how to reattach a limb with magic, a trick that he had passed on to Rosemary, who was interesting in magical healing, although Bellatrix had confided in him that the twins were likely to specialise in espionage come their fourth year, something that had proved true and the twins had taken to with gusto. They often used their newfound skills to find as many pieces of gossip and blackmail concerning Hadrian as they could, as well as all the members of staff, apart from Master Gibbon, who they had come, for reasons unknown to Hadrian, to respect. 

Hadrian set down his cutlery with a sigh. "Well I suppose I might as well go find out. I don't know how long I will be, so I may be late tonight." 

"See you, Hadrian." 

"Good luck, Hadrian." 

Hadrian swung his cloak over his shoulder and slowly opened the doors, unwilling to head outside in this weather. It was times like this that he missed Britain. Despite it only being September, the snow was falling thick and fast, temperatures well below freezing. In the far corner if the school grounds was an old chapel, left from when the castle belonged to old Muggle aristocracy. It was never used and had fallen into a state of disrepair, but it had a graveyard next to it, which was where Hadrian was headed now. Feeling at ease amid the graves, he leaned against one of the larger headstones near the gate, waiting for his mystery tutor. 

"You've certainly grown. Those growth charms won't last for much longer, Erus." 

***

“Drop your wand, Hadrian. That’s no way to greet your teacher, is it? Would you point your wand at Madam Lestrange?”

Hadrian had learnt early on in his first year that it was not a good idea to aim his wand at his tutor, but he wasn’t going to let the bastard know that. He lowered his wand and put it back in his holster.

“Riddle.” He greeted his new tutor, stiff smile plastered on his face. He was leaning against the wall of a smaller mausoleum smirking at Hadrian, eyes glittering with amusement.

“That will be Master Riddle to you, child.”

The man had grown no less infuriating with time. Absence, Hadrian mused, did not make the heart grow fonder. If anything, it had made Riddle’s smug air even more maddening.

“Of course, _Master Riddle_.” Hadrian would be damned if he let Riddle get one over on him again. He was no longer the naive eleven year old he had been. Four years had passed and he had crossed tongues with Greengrass often enough to pick up some tricks.

“I find I rather like that title coming from your pretty lips. You’re not yet on your knees, of course, but we can work on that.” 

Riddle pushed himself off the wall and stalked towards Hadrian. 

“I’ve been called here to instruct you on the arts of necromancy and Parselmagic. Both are unique fields of magic, as you well know, and I am one of only two known wizards in Wizarding Europe to hold both, myself and the Dark Lord. I expect you to be an attentive student. I expect you to respect me as your tutor. I expect you to learn what I teach you and learn it well. Understood?”

Hadrian remained silent.

Riddle hissed and jerked Hadrian towards him with a strong grip on his arm.

“Let me make a few things very clear. I am the teacher, you are the pupil. I’m sure you can grasp that small concept, you’re a clever boy. And while that is the case I expect complete obedience. If I tell you to perform a spell, you do it. If I tell you to return to the school, or walk away and never return you do it. And if I ask you a question, you open that pretty mouth of yours and you answer. _Is that understood?_ ”

“Yes, Master Riddle.” He mumbled as he wrenched his arm out of Riddle’s grip. Riddle narrowed his eyes at him, but otherwise turned away to walk between the graves, footsteps silent. Hadrian wrapped his cloak tither around him as the wind picked up. Why did the first lesson have to be outside, of all places?

He had just begun debating whether it would be considered disrespectful to sit on one of the large grave stones when Riddle returned into view, carrying five pieces of stone. He beckoned Hadrian over before stalking off once more, leaving Hadrian to weave between the gravestones so as not to lose view of him.

Riddle stopped at the very edge of the graveyard, where one grave stood a few metres away from the rest. It was small and plain, the writing on the front worn away by age and weather. Riddle cleared the snow on top with a swift sweep of his wand and sat down. Hadrian hovered awkwardly nearby, unsure of whether he was to remain standing. After a couple of minutes of internal deliberation, during which Riddle just sat silently on the gravestone, staring at Hadrian, he took off his cloak and laid it on the snow, perching on top of it.

“Now that we’re comfy,” Riddle mocked, “Let’s begin.” 

He dropped the pieces of stone into the snow in front of Hadrian.

“These are pieces from the gravestones here. Normally, it is difficult to gain a spiritual link with objects like this. Usually you will need an item from their body, or an item of clothing at the least. But muggles hold a sentimental value to these lumps of rock,” He sneers, “And some of their soul lingers. Not enough to contact or control, but enough to sense. And that’s what I want you to do. Make a connection with the souls.”

Hadrian stared, dumbfounded, at the rocks in front of him, without the slightest clue of where to start.

“Unless you want to be out in the cold all night, I suggest you get a move on.” Riddle commented from his gravestone, not looking up from the book he had apparently conjured out of nowhere. Hadrian opened his mouth, to ask how, exactly, he was supposed to make this ‘connection’, but closed it again with the snap. He’d be damned if he was going to ask help from the bastard.

He picked up the closest piece of stone and turned it over in his hands. It was a remarkable smooth piece of stone, an almost perfect square. Riddle had likely cut it from the gravestone. He pushed his magic toward it, as Bellatrix had taught him in his second year. He poked and prodded every inch of the stone with his magic, but could feel nothing unusual about it. It was just a piece of rock.

He put that one down and moved onto the next piece, repeating the same test with his magic. Nothing. The same was true for the final three pieces. Determined to find this connection before he had to ask for help, he picked up the first piece once again and delved in deeper, pulling magic deeper from within his core and inspecting every inch of the blasted rock.

Fifteen minutes later, he had found nothing and his magic had begun to curl around his body in a final attempt to keep warm, to protect its host. His teeth could not stop chattering and his hands had gone purple from the chill. He dropped the stone and curled up involuntarily to preserve body heat. But still he sent what magic he could spare to the rock, probing deeper and deeper. He was going to find this bloody connection if it killed him.

***

He woke to the heat of a crackling fire behind him, his cloak draped over his body. He shook his arm, muscles aching from the sudden change in temperature. He was in a wooden cabin, fireplace blazing behind him. 

“It almost did kill you, you idiot boy.” Riddle’s voice comes from the doorway. He stalked towards him and pulled him up, Hadrian’s feet skidding on the wooden floor to gain grip.

“There is a time and a place for stubbornness and let me tell you, that was not it. I have no wish to see three years of work go to waste over idiocy. I presumed you would be able to ask when a task proved beyond you, but apparently you fell short in even that mediocre task. Instead you decided to almost kill yourself.” He snarled.

“Then why didn’t you stop me?” Hadrian threw back, ignoring the dangerous look in Riddle’s eye. He didn’t care if he was being disrespectful; he wanted answers as to why Riddle almost let him die.

“You need to learn to accept that some people know more than you do. You seem awfully reluctant to ask for help from me.” Riddle traced a cold finger down Hadrian’s cheek. “I wonder why.” 

Hadrian could think of plenty of ways to teach him to ask questions that didn’t involve his death, but he kept quiet, Riddle too close to comfort.

“I can almost see the cogs turning in your mind. All those rebellious thoughts.” Riddle laughed, a short, cold chuckle. “As long as they don’t mar your pretty lips, you can think what you like, my child. I shall, in the meantime, attempt to teach you some form of necromancy. I had better things to do than babysit you tonight, I won’t have my time wasted.”

His mouth firmly shut, Hadrian followed Riddle deeper into the cabin. He would be dammed if he was going to let Riddle keep walking all over him. But to do that, he had to first learn all he could.

***

“You can do better than that, dearie.” Bellatrix mocked as she dodged out of his arms reach. “Again!”

Exhausted, Hadrian moved back into stance and started the exercise again. But this time when he threw the third punch Bella grabbed his arm, flipping him onto his back. He lay on the cold ground, breathing harshly. 

“Up. Again.”

“Not again. Give me a chance to catch my breath.”

“You’ll have a chance to rest when you’re dead. Not now. Up. You. Get.”

Hadrian heaved himself up, wincing as the bruises on his back protested.

“You’re not leaving this room until you’ve perfected this. You know the drill. Again.”

He swung his arm again, moving on autopilot. Again and again and again they went through the drill. Swing left, kick out, feint left and throw the punch. Yet this time, as he threw the final punch he found himself stumbling as he hit empty air. As he recovered Bellatrix pinned his arms behind his back.

“You’re better than this, Hadrian.” Bellatrix breathed in his ear. “You should have had this perfected two minutes after you walked in the door. Something is distracting you. I’m going to let you go now, but you’re not coming back into my classroom until you’ve sorted it out.”

She released and he stumbled forward, putting his arm on the nearest wall to brace him.

“Out. Now.”

Hadrian moved sluggishly to collect his bag and slinked out the classroom, slamming the door behind him. Bellatrix was right when she had said that there was something distracting him, and it was bloody Riddle.

He had been insufferably smug all through the remainder their first lesson yesterday, lording his superior knowledge over Hadrian and mocking his behaviour. But what really infuriated Hadrian was that the bastard was a good teacher. Everything he had said had made sense, amid the jibes and insults. But he didn’t want to learn anything from the prick.

He threw himself down onto a bench in the dining hall, empty at the moment and rested his head on his folded arms, exhausted after days of training. He was already longing for the simplicity of the holidays, when he wouldn’t have to deal with the threat of bleeding out on a daily basis, or egotistical bastards attempting to teach him. 

Bloody Riddle.

Even during his breaks he was haunting him. He was going to curse the bastard when he next saw him. He was fed up of him haunting his thoughts, night and day. 

“Hey.”

“Hey.”

The twins sat down on either side of him as Hadrian heard the dining room fill. 

“Hey.” He mumbled, voice muffled by his arms. 

“What’s up?” He heard Rosemary ask. 

“Nothing.” He lied, hauling himself up. “I’m up.”

“No you’re not. Don’t lie to Auntie Rosemary. Tell me all your woes.”

“I’m fine.” Hadrian answered, adamant. 

Rosemary sighed. “I’ll leave you in peace for now. But you will tell me before the week’s out.”

“I have no doubt I will.” Hadrian admitted wryly, sitting back to listen patiently as Rhea launched into the tale of the twin’s latest lesson, evidently enthused by the latest course Gibbons was setting them on. 

His bed was a welcome sight after the day he’d had. And even better, tomorrow was Saturday, his one day of rest during the week. He had great plans to lay in bed until the early afternoon, compensation for the dawn risings Bellatrix had pushed him into over the last fortnight. 

Merlin, he thought as he collapsed on top of the covers, he could sleep for years.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not a lot of proof reading went into this chapter so if any dodgy bits crop up, then I'll change them.  
> I don't ever think I can say thank you enough to those who comment and bookmark and subscribe this fic. It's really heart-warming to know that there are some people that care slightly about this silly little thing that I've pulled together. So thank you.  
> On a final note, this fic rather needs a title. An actual, functional title. Any suggestions for such a thing really would be appreciated.


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